Guest Book Review: Pagan Christianity

Cardinal Spin* reviews Pagan Christianity, by Frank Viola and George Barna.
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Utter crap

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* Disclaimer: The views expressed in articles published on Chrisendom are those of the authors alone. They do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Chris Tilling Really Very Holy Ministries, or its staff, nor do they represent the views or opinions of Her Majesty the Queen, the McDonalds restaurant chain, the Pope, or any entity of heavenly, intermediary or earthly nature. Just that of the author.

Deserving of a good slappin'

A guest post by Cardinal Spin

Kim Fabricius has written another ‘ten propositions’ for Ben Myers’ Faith and Theology, this time ‘on being a theologian’.

Naturally, were I to meet this Kim fellow I would kick the big Jesse out of him just to see what would happen (he is a pacifist). Apart from that, I’d want to ask what the flaming hell possessed him to write this post.

For example, under point 9 he writes that ‘all believers are theologians’. Fair enough. But then in the first paragraph he claims that ‘[t]heologians are like horse manure’. Putting them both together, it becomes blatantly obvious this chap thinks all Christians are nothing but horse manure! That’s right, your believing mum, Kim Fabricius wants to tell you, is nothing but a stinking pile of shit. He waxes lyrical that your beloved believing mum has the ontological worth of a cowpat, and is as attractive as the contents of an average u-bend.

Then there is the racist anti Nile pro Zionist ranting under point 3.

While he is sure that there ‘will be no theology in the eschaton’, I’m not so sure. I’m personally expecting to daily deliver my ‘Authoritative Opinions’ (I have opinions about almost everything) on all manner of subjects for the eternal enjoyment of the elect. So there will be theology in the eschaton.

Mine.

He also notes that ‘Karl Barth famously said that when he gets to heaven he will seek out Mozart before Calvin’ adding ‘Quite right’. Seeing as I’m probably going to hell for this post anyway after the last paragraph, I might as well let my hair down and make the most of it. So: Me, I’m heading straight for a privileged place at the right hand of Majesty (secured by a prayer of faith a while ago). I suspect Barth will be heading for me as well to be honest. Especially after he hears my ‘Authoritative Opinions’. But Kim continues: ‘Me – I’ll be heading for the choir of angels, to find Sandy Koufax, to see how he made the baseball sing’. What! Every sound minded person knows that baseball is just a pansy version of ‘rounders’ and so obviously was invented by a ‘spirit from underneath’. Any theologian worth his meat and two vegetables would know that (notice I don’t feel I have to capitulate in fear to feminist extremists every day by speaking of the theologian as ‘she’ all the time). Besides, after calling every Christian who ever lived a stinking pile of rotting shit I don’t think St. Peter will be unlocking the Pearly gates with too great a measure of enthusiams for Mr Kim Fabricius.

He finishes by claiming that ‘theologians do not know what they are talking about’.

Speak for yourself buttercup!

A response to Simon’s critique of Intelligent Design

A guest post by Cardinal Spin

I was pleased to write my debut post for Chrisendom a while back (on ‘Christian counselling’), but I felt the urge to write another in light of this drivel Chris’ most recent guest blogger, Simon Hardwick, has written about Intelligent Design. Gladly, Chris has cautiously given me permission to respond again, even though he too takes a similar line to Simon on the whole ID issue - so a round of applause for Chris’ willingness to promote open dialogue is in order. What a guy.

However, Simon, you have things totally wrong, you git. Your birthday it may be, but correction is my gift to you. In the following I want to present a few propositions for you consideration.

First, if I understand you correctly, you argue that design can only be inferred from the world around us, sometimes against the evidence, by faith; it is not something objective and open to all, nor is it a scientific statement. You boldly maintain that design is not a scientific evaluation (or, using Kantian categories, a pure reason appraisal) but rather something that involves broader metaphysical assessment (Kant’s practical reason) in light of faith. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is what you are claiming, isn’t it?

Now, the first link in my argument is to note the following: Beauty is related to design.

Let me explain. I do not applaud the beauty of chaos, that is clear, but were I to look at the curves on a fine looking nun, or the bosoms of the fine ladies on Baywatch, applaud (and wolf whistle) I do. Enthusiastically. I perceive beauty in the design.

What you are trying to tell me, by deduction, is thus the following: When you look at the beauty of your own wife, this is not something, like design, that can be appreciated by the objective state of affairs, it is rather only seen by faith. In other words, the beauty of your wife is very definitely only in the eyes of the beholder. But how does your wife feel about that?

‘Honey, do I look nice in this dress?’

‘Well darling, though against the evidence, and through my eyes of believing faith, unobjectively yes ...’

What is worse is what happens when we stretch this line of reasoning. Basically, you’re saying that my mum looks like a piece of minced-meat, that Chris’ wife only evidences design against the evidence, and that the mums and wives of all reading this are as ugly as hell!

Explain yourself, man, and stop your filthy nonsense gabbling before I come and show you what your face looks like after it has been undesigned by my cricket bat.

My 'Opposite Blogging Day' contribution

OK, this might not be entirely what Rick Brannan had in mind when he suggested some attempt an ‘opposite blogging day’, but my creative juices weren’t driving me in any other direction, and my analytical energy levels certainly couldn’t manage anything even remotely serious.

So, I’m glad to introduce you, tonight, to Cardinal Spin. In the following, he shall be sharing his considered thoughts concerning that most sensitive of subjects: ‘Christian counselling’

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Thanks for giving me this opportunity, Chris, to post on your blog. You come across a bit liberal sometimes though, so stop it and start using the KJV you freak.

I want to share my thoughts on my approach to ‘Christian counselling’, as so many get this wrong. To do this, I will give an example from my own ministry experience. No theological ‘theory’ crap here:

The situation: Recently, an old woman came to me – big fat lard she was – to discuss her ‘problems’. I was only visiting the church, but she saw my dog-collar and made a beeline for me as I walked into the back of the chapel from the car park. So I took her aside and she told me the awful story of her failed marriage and of her kids who recently left the church youth group to become Nazis.

But through all of this pain she still had her beloved poodle dog.

‘Smoochee’, she affectionately called it – even had a picture of it. Ugly bastard. But then she got all tearful as she told me how she’d run it over while reversing into the garage. Of course, I was fighting off a smirk when she told me that she’d managed to run Smoochee over twice during this episode, but funniest of all was when she broke down into tears as she detailed the business with the liposuction and her belly button. But I’ll leave out the details.

‘What should I do?’, she asked with pained eyes.

Sensitive counselling in action: Having heard her speak for a while I interrupted her before she could go on for too long. That’s the first principle. ‘Interrupt’ if you can’t be bothered to hear anymore crap. And how to do that? Well, I said ‘shut up and stop whining woman’, a suggestion that was successfully returned with stunned silence.

‘Right’, I continued, ‘I can see what your problem here is *waving a pointed finger*.

‘Clearly ... for such awful stuff to happen to you ... to have such a pitiful life ...

*imaginary drum roll*

... you obviously have siiiin in your life (I stressed the word ‘sin’ and made it sound about three syllables longer). Yes, that would be Iniquity, woman. Wick-ed-ness. Eeeevil’.

At this point her eyes started to fill with tears so I made the following deduction: She is clearly under conviction, ergo I am obviously operating under the anointing.

‘What?’, she quivered. But I had no time for sissy talk, so I got straight to the point: ‘Dear, you’re a disgusting sinner, and that’s why all of these things have happened’. Her face wrinkled into thought so I reassured her: ‘Listen, I do know what I’m talking about, OK? Cos I’m a priest. OK?

*I paused and glared to make sure she’d ‘received’ that*

I continued: ‘Good. Right, what you need to do is obvious’.

Then I looked long and hard at her and told her the age old wisdom that has gotten me through decades of counselling: ‘Old hag, what you need to do is simple:

One, Repent more *I glared at her for effect and looked for signs of conviction*.
Two, read your bible more.
Three, fast more *I jabbed her fat waist* (Here I also muttered something Zwingli said – cf. fn.* below).
Four, pray more *I grinned at her to make her feel more comfortable*.
And finally, five!. Just be generally more holy and excited about church *I waved my hands around to make clear everything I’d said was utterly self-evident*’.

She looked back at me. But I kept eye contact.

Eventually, I noticed that her face had slowly started to get a bit ‘hard’, and her eyes had narrowed.

Knowing that I’d hit the nail on the head with the ‘siiiiiiin’ speech, I’d expected this. And for those of us who have done this sort of thing before, I ‘discerned’ what was going on. Behind those pursed lips was none other than a religious Jezebel spirit. Without further ado, I grabbed her head and cried out in a loud voice ‘COME FORTH THOU JEZEBEL SPIRIT OF EVIL HARD HEARTEDNESS AND UTTER DOG-MURDERING WICKEDNESS’

She struggled to prise my hands away, so I slapped her and repeated my command with more gusto. I was starting to really enjoy myself.

At this moment the actual Priest, who had heard my authoritative commands, rushed to the scene and foolishly pushed me away. He threw his arms around the woman (who was now sobbing in uncontrollable tears), while I quietly but quickly made my way out of the side door back in to the car park.

So, to summarise this successful ministry moment: Interrupt. Be anointed. Speak the truth. Make the sicko who needs help feel comfortable. Take authority. Have fun!

Footnotes:
* ‘Einen Grund für das Fasten sieht er, ganz modern, darin, daß wir "damit den allzu schamlos vortretenden Wanst wieder in das alte Kleid hineinbringen’ (Zwinglis Sämtliche Werke, Vol III, p. 674, line 42)